Dead People

Gucci ManeGucci Mane 

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Gucci Mane

Radric Devonte Davis (born February 12, 1980) better known by his stage name Gucci Mane, is an American rapper. He debuted in 2005 with Trap House followed by Hard to Kill in 2006, Trap-A-Thon and Back to the Trap House in 2007. In 2009, his second studio album The State vs. Radric Davis was released, and The Appeal: Georgia's Most Wanted was released in 2010, and is his highest charting album so far. Gucci Mane has released many other mixtapes and independent albums as well. more »

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I got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread

Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread

Got a pocket full of dead guys
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to watch the feds
And I love sellin' cake pies
It's a bad bitch in my bed and she got that stupid head
Call me Versace shop, shawty, catch me walkin' out of 5ths
With a lil Glock 40 and a couple extra clips
Lenox Mall in the closet, all my hoes exotic
And ain't that shit ironic that my doors go up, robotic? (Gucci!)
I can walk the shit and I can talk the shit
I can talk the shit cause I got it
It's Gucci Mane, I'm a walkin' lick
Got dead people in my pocket
Fallin' off in Follie's, got a bag full of the mollies
A half a mil' all profit, and my music got her jockin'

I got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread

Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread

I've been livin' like a king all week
I'm a peasant at the end of every day
I've been chillin' with my niggas in the streets
Livin' like a vagabond, wild, free, run away
Reminiscin' 'bout them bored summer days
Blowin' haze on the east side of Atlanta
Makin' moves on the shawty, a Hispania
We don't speak the same language so excuse me if I stammer
I understand you wanna pick up the hammer
And build up your own, she see her brother climbin' the ladder
It's your time, yeah it's somethin' that you figure
I mean you can do it too but you can't be a bitch ass nigga
Get up off your ass, find a fuckin' craft
Make bread, get it back, give it back times 2
Who are you? Look in the mirror
Don't give a f*ck what they think, you're the one, you're the truth
Got the juice, got the juice, got the juice, got the juice
Mothafucka you the man like an 8th grade Jew
You can chew through any zebra ass in the zoo
Any nigga tryna act hard as some leather boots, f*ck them
And anyone tryna step on you, fire burnin'
Make a livin', stack a sum and watch your paper
Now and later ain't really good time
For a nigga 'bout his business on Wood Crest Manor

I got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread

Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me go get this bread
Got a pocket full of dead people
Evil voices in my head tellin' me to get this bread

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer